The Sapphire Broach

Chapter 7 (rough draft)

Ivy watched Kenric walk away. His words echoed in her head. She hardly knew him, and he certainly owed her nothing, so why did each of his fading footsteps hurt like rocks thrown at her heart?

She watched him until a line of trees blocked him from view. He reappeared for a moment where the dying greenery thinned farther on, then a rocky hillside took him out of her life forever. She closed her eyes and hung her head. What could she do? Ever since her parent's death, she had known her trek to the palace would be a lonely one. Why had she dared hope it would be otherwise?

A lone bird chirped nearby and a gentle breeze kicked up a swirl of crisp leaves. Ivy took her dress from where it hung and stepped behind a bush, then removed her cloak. Kenric's cloak. She still had his cloak.

"Kenric!" She scurried through the brush where he had vanished. "Kenric!"

But he was gone.

She kicked at the gathered leaves, then returned to her dress. It took quite a while to don it and tie its many ridiculous ribbons. Then she ran her fingers through her tangled hair and laced up her boots. A long walk awaited her, if she chose to go to the palace. Did she truly want to go there? Perhaps she should forget about it like Kenric suggested. Would it really matter in the end if she went or not? Probably, but she could always make that decision later. For the moment—and since she had no home to return to—she might as well head in that direction.

Years ago, Aunt Maurie had helped her memorize maps of the road to the palace so that she would be ready. It would likely take her nearly two weeks to arrive on foot, if she could stay on the road. If she had to hide from soldiers, it could take much longer.

Her steps led her to the dirt road and she glanced each way before she started on the path. A carriage approached from the opposite direction. She waited for it to pass, then set off after Kenric, who was probably long gone on Sweetie.

How had this become her life? As a child she had feasted at the royal table, attended balls in frilly little dresses, had maids, a nanny, a tutor, and a lady-in-waiting, and was set to wear the crown. Her parents had loved and treasured her and taught her of life and its glories. Then Rymond destroyed it all. He had been one of the king's personal guards. He had even spoken kindly to her on occasion.

Then he killed her parents and would have killed her too if her father hadn't saved her. Now she was the Missing Child—vanished after the carriage crash. She had not vanished, but hidden herself from Rymond in an apricot orchard.

The smell of apricot blossoms still haunted her. She had huddled in the orchard after hearing the tremendous crash that meant her parent's deaths, then ran blindly and frightened with nowhere to go. The palace had been in chaos and she knew she couldn't go there.

Then she found Maurie, a kitchen maid who had always had an extra treat ready for her when she visited the kitchens. Maurie had sensed the deceit in the king and queen's deaths, and so took Ivy into hiding. They had fled to the far end of the kingdom where they settled with Maurie claiming Ivy as her niece.

For nine years their plan had worked, but Rymond must have had men searching for her.

Oh, she hoped they hadn't harmed Maurie! She should be well. Rymond hadn't troubled himself with knowing the kitchen staff, so he couldn't know of Maurie's part in the plan. No, she would be well.

Convinced of Maurie's safety, Ivy's thoughts turned to herself. She had no plan for her journey to the palace. It had always nagged at the back of her mind—something she needed to do . . . someday. Perhaps she should have prepared herself. What would become of her if she went to the palace, anyway? Surely the broach would prove her story, and her people—those who had lived closest to her parents—would welcome her back to the throne. Wouldn't they?

***

Kenric rode Sweetie at a moderate pace. The colorful fall leaves drifted passed him in a blur. Normally he would have enjoyed their vibrant yellows and reds, but his thoughts were elsewhere. What would become of Ivy? How could she desire to go to the palace? The king would have her head . . . if she made it that far.

He wiped at his forehead. She was no longer his concern. He had done all he could for her. But somehow he couldn't rid himself of the image of her shivering when he wrapped his cloak around her shoulders.

His cloak! Curse that retched woman! She still had his cloak.

Was it worth returning for? He had traveled about a half of an hour. If he went back, it would take him an hour to get to the same spot just for a cloak. The image of Ivy begging to return for her dress came to his mind. How ironic that he found himself in a similar situation . . . only he was fully clothed.

Unlike her, he refused to delay his journey for a worthless article of clothing. He had more sense in his head than to do such a foolish thing. He had blankets and could always purchase another cloak if needed.

The pounding of horse hoofs on the road drew his attention. A lone rider sped toward him, baring the insignia of the king.

Kenric pulled his horse off the road and ducked his head. Though the rider did not even look at him, an uneasiness crept into his stomach. Was something amiss?

No one else came along, so Kenric brought Sweetie back onto the road and continued on. Hiss wariness grew. Nearly three-quarters of an hour had passed when he spotted a group of soldiers ahead.

He stopped, dismounted, and walked his mare into an area thick with evergreens where she would be hidden from the road. There he tethered her and crept off to learn more about the soldiers.

Their voices grew louder as he neared the group.

"The woman was last seen escaping with a man and a horse," one soldier announced. "They were headed this direction."

"We set up a blockade this morning," another added. "They have not come this way."

"Good," the first said. "Arrest them if they do. Send riders along this boundary so they cannot go around."

"Yes, sir."

They were looking for Ivy . . . and him. Wonderful. He frowned. She had placed him on the wanted list, too. At least they didn't know he was a fellow soldier.

Kenric retreated to where he had left his horse, his mind at war with itself. The pit in his stomach told him to go back and warn Ivy, but his stubborn will desired to leave her to fend for herself while he slipped beyond the barricade and continued home. She was no longer his concern—then why did he feel so concerned?

He pounded his fist on the branch that tethered Sweetie. It snapped off and the horse snorted.

"Yes, girl." He patted her nose to calm her. "I feel precisely the same way. I suppose we should turn around and warn that cursed woman."